


A Friend's Embrace

by movetotherhythm



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: It ain't gay yet, M/M, Wrestling is real
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 04:05:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7027807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/movetotherhythm/pseuds/movetotherhythm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sami feels really shitty after Wrestlemania - he only went and blew his chance at making a major impact on the biggest stage he'd ever grace. He just wants to be alone, but luckily there's somebody who knows just how to make him feel better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Friend's Embrace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [captainharkness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainharkness/gifts).



> This isn't going to be very long - probably under 10k but it's a bit of fun so whatever, hope you enjoy!

Sami’s fingers were bleeding. Well, his knuckles were, at least. Are they part of the fingers? Hand? Who knows? Not Sami. 

What Sami did know is that everything south of his wrist hurt. A lot.

Maybe punching the locker room wall wasn’t the best idea. 

Wrestlemania was the biggest event of the year. Every sport had one: for football, it was the Superbowl; for Soccer it was the World Cup (okay, so it’s not every year; who gives a cattle truck? (Paige had insisted on giving Becky Lynch a masterclass in Cockney Rhyming Slang, and Becky had drunkenly relayed this absolute gem to him)), for cricket it was the… cricket… cup? Maybe? Is cricket real? If so, why?

Anyway, Wrestlemania was the undisputed calendar marker of the WWE world. It truly was both the December 31st and the New Year’s Day of Vince McMahon’s own personal Gregorian calendar and every single person who followed the WWE abided by that rule whether they liked it or not. 

And ol’ Sami Zayn had fucked it up.

He’d had the chance to give himself a head start in the race for personal glory.

He’d had the chance to show everybody that he had what it takes to really make an impact. 

He’d had the chance to raise himself to the level of relevance that would mean that “Feud with Sami Zayn” would take absolute priority on the Wikipedia page of any jobber that tried to single him out as their way back into the spotlight.

He took that chance, and he threw it out of the window.

Wrestlemania was the biggest event of the year. The Intercontinental Championship was the second most prestigious in the WWE. The ladder match was one of the most revered matches by the fans in the entire industry. And Sami Zayn had. Fucked. It. Up.

He could’ve walked out of Arlington as the Intercontinental Champion. He could’ve walked out of Arlington with the entire crowd behind him; he could’ve walked out of Arlington as someone who’d had their talents recognized and rewarded by the masses.

Instead, he walked out of Arlington sore and upset.

He’d never been the sort of person that fixated on the past and dwelled on what could’ve been. But this time around, he just couldn’t help himself. He could’ve been a star.  
But he wasn’t.

He was the guy that let a personal vendetta get in the way of his own ambition. 

Kevin Owens left Wrestlemania gutted that he was no longer the Intercontinental Champion, but at least he had some comfort; the fact that Sami Zayn still couldn’t get one over on him meant that Kevin went home with a decent enough consolation to keep his ego at the usual sky high level.  
But Sami… Sami had nothing to cheer about.

He’d beaten Kevin up, sure. But he didn’t have anything to show for it. The bruises Kevin sported would fade; the memory of defeat that really stuck in Sami’s mind would certainly last a lifetime.

Realistically, he knew that losing a seven man ladder match wasn’t the end of the world. But it felt like it was.

At least there was nobody in the locker room to watch him cry.

“Sami?”

For Fuck’s sake. 

He was facing away from the door so his tears weren’t on display but that fact didn’t make Sami feel any less exposed. At least the voice that had permeated his bubble of self-pity was a friendly one.

“Sami,” Finn Balor repeated. “Are you alright?”

He didn’t reply. He knew Finn would be staring at him, looking for any signs of emotions that he couldn’t hide away. Any angry trembling or sudden inhalations that indicated an oncoming ugly crying fest. Sami shook his head.

When the door clicked closed, Sami thought that he’d been left alone for a second – but then he heard the fastening of the lock. Nobody would interrupt them. 

He turned around to face Finn, puffy cheeks and red eyes on full display. At least he’d stopped crying. 

Not an ounce of pity was evident on the Irishman’s face – quite the opposite, really. The expression on Finn’s face was one of understanding. The smile on his face was subtle, but warm. Sami was really happy to see him, even if he didn’t look like it.

“Good match,” Finn said. “You put on a right show, as usual.”

Sami smiled despite himself. 

“You know you should be proud of yourself, right?” Finn asked.

The smile on Sami’s face faded and he looked down at his feet. He didn’t feel proud. He didn’t feel like he deserved any pride.

“Sami, you do know that you put on one hell of a spectacle, right? People are still chanting your name.”

Sami sighed.

“I fucked it up, Finn.” 

“You didn’t win, so what? I know it’s disappointing but once again, you went completely above and beyond. How many people can say they shone that much in a fucking twenty minute ladder match with six other blokes?”

Sami’s shoulders sagged. He knew the crowd had loved the match, but it’s just... he put on a show every time he stepped in the ring, and he’d never really had anything to show for it. 

“I don’t want to be that guy, Finn.”

The statement was met with a raised eyebrow and no reply. 

“I don’t want to be the guy whose legacy is a series of majorly impressive losses.”

Finn’s eyebrow dropped to meet the other. He looked sad.

“That’s not how people see you,” he said quietly. 

“Oh yeah?” Sami felt an unreasonable jolt of anger rising in him. “How would you know what people think of me?”

“Because I have two functional eyes,” Finn replied. “You’re adored everywhere you go, not just by the fans but by the guys who have the privilege to work with you. When your music hits… it’s electric, Sami. People love everything about you – your work ethic, your personality, your ability. When you hit your moonsault from the barricade, or that ridiculous DDT you do, people go completely fucking apeshit. They want you to win, but when you don’t they’re not disappointed in you. People see you as kind and talented and so, so deserving.”

“I doubt-“

“You don’t get to doubt it,” Finn interjected. “I’m telling you facts, not pissing make-believe. You’re loved, Sami.”

Sami nodded. He knew what Finn was saying was true but there was just some part of him that refused to believe it. And that small part was pretty convincing most of the time. 

“What makes you so interested in how people see me?”

Finn went red and looked away. 

“Because I care about you.”

The anger in his stomach that had threatened to rise up quickly dissipated. It was replaced by a warmth that spread throughout his body and rested on his cheeks. Finn glanced back at him.

The two men, both red in the face, stood for a moment observing each other. 

“Thanks,” Sami said. 

“Don’t mention-“ 

Finn was cut off by the kind of sudden breathlessness that only a 200 pound man throwing himself at you can cause.

Sami didn’t really think through his actions. One second he was a metre or so away from his friend, and the next saw him with his eyes and nose buried into the crook of Finn’s neck. The Irishman stiffened momentarily and then relaxed into the hug. 

“Thanks,” Sami said again, this time his words coming out muffled by skin.

“For what?” Finn replied. “I was only telling you the truth.”

“For being you.”

“It’s no trouble,” Finn said. “Being me is actually pretty awesome; I get to spend a lot of time with Sami Zayn.”

Sami squeezed his arms tighter in a show of affection. Finn rested his nose in Sami’s hair and smiled. 

“Why don’t you come back to my hotel room and we can just relax, yeah?” Finn said. “After Takeover, I could really do with a friendly face and a shitty movie.”

Sami lifted his head and broke contact above his neck. He didn’t pull his arms completely back though, his right lingering around his friend’s waist. 

“Sounds good to me,” he said. “Can I shower at yours?”

Finn nodded. 

“No point getting dressed if you’re just going to jump in the shower when we get back,” he said. “Besides, I’ve been around you when you’ve smelled much worse than this.”

Sami started to laugh – and once he started, it proved difficult to stop. Just minutes before he’d felt nothing but complete and utter disappointment and laughing just felt so good.  
It felt like a long time before he finally calmed down, but in reality it was probably only around thirty seconds.

“You quite done?” Finn asked, and he nodded in response. 

“Speaking of Takeover,” Sami said. “I’ve got a question about that.”

“Oh yeah?” 

“Who the fuck gave you a chainsaw?”


End file.
